


I'm Not Your Class President

by RockingItInAParallelUniverse



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel is older than Geralt, Family Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Pygmalion - Shaw, Jaskier is popular, Lambert resents Geralt, Modern Era, Multi, Not Beta Read, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, everyone is bi, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockingItInAParallelUniverse/pseuds/RockingItInAParallelUniverse
Summary: Geralt Rivia has nowhere to go once he's released from jail for street fighting. Vesemir offers him a home and family in exchange for one thing. Geralt must finish his high school education at the age of 20. Despite acting aloof and detached, Geralt finds himself embroiled in a popularity contest. Between his foster brothers, the cool kids Julian and Valdo, and the gorgeous Yennefer Vengerberg, Geralt has his hands full trying to keep his promise to Vesemir while not getting involved in any high school drama. But drama has a way of finding Geralt no matter how hard he tries to hide from it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The High School AU/Pygmalion AU that nobody asked for. But hey, it's one of my favorite tropes. Rating may change. Characters may be added. Comments/kudos greatly appreciated.

Geralt dressed in all black. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black hoodie. He finished tying the laces to his black combat boots with a satisfied grunt. Then he glanced in the mirror and tucked his silver wolf medallion safely under the collar of his shirt. The pendant, the only surviving memento from a home and life he could not remember, felt cool against his skin. Only the silver chain glistened against his neck. It matched the color of his hair, an un-natural silvery-white. The hair color of an old man. He pulled his shoulder length locks into a ponytail showing off his undercut. He told himself he looked alright.

"You're wearing that? To school?" Lambert, his younger foster brother asked.

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing if you want to let the whole school know you're a freak without saying a word."

"Fuck off."

Resentment followed Lambert down the stairs. His 'new' younger brother was only slightly smaller than Geralt even though he was four years older than the sophomore boy. Lambert wore his almost black hair military short. He was dressed in average blue jeans, an average striped polo shirt and average sneakers. His eyes were as dark as his hair. Lambert would blend in easily, dressed in this sort of camouflage just as Geralt would stand out. Maybe Lambert didn't mind acting like he wasn't an imposter, pretending he belonged with the average kids.

Geralt refused. There was no help covering up the fact that he was a 20 year old high school senior with grey hair and gold eyes. A freak through and through.

"Hurry up, numbskulls," Eskel, the eldest of Vesemir's foster project proteges urged. Eskel was only a year older than Geralt but he already finished school and thus earned the right to work for the old man. He and Geralt were saved from the streets at the beginning of the summer.Vesemir said he could smell their potential and refused to let them waste it on drugs, theft and fights.

So Geralt stared out the window of the rusted, white pick up truck as Eskel drove him and Lambert (who was squashed between them) to school. Hopefully Geralt's last first day of school. It seemed an easy choice at the time. Vesemir would allow Geralt to live rent-free in his home with Lambert and Eskel. He'd have his own bedroom and supper every night. Clothes that weren't ripped or smelly. Safety. The promise of a real job. All in exchange for finally finishing high school.

"Can you drop me off here? I don't want to be seen with him" Lambert complained.

Geralt felt his chin slam down against his chest as Eskel stomped on the brakes. "I'll make it easy. Both of you get out. Now I'll have time to grab coffee before work. Ta ta, little boys. Have a nice day at school," he mocked, speeding away as soon as Lambert slammed the door.

"Don't talk to me. I mean it, Geralt. You aren't ruining my life because Vesemir felt sorry for you."

Geralt tried to think of a snappy come back, but words were not his forte. When he finally thought of something lame, Lambert had disappeared, hidden amongst the rest of the average high school students milling around the brick building that was Cintra High. He might as well find the school office. Vesemir supposedly enrolled him while Geralt finished serving his 30 day sentence in the city jail.

"Is that a teacher or a student?" A girl practically shouted to her friend as he entered the building.

"Dude's got grey hair!" A Lambert-like average boy gushed.

The questions and muttered insults were nothing new to Geralt. Neither was the double-take and wide-eyed stare of the school secretary.

"Let's see. You are Mr.Rivia?"

"Umm, Geralt. I'm Geralt."

"Here you are, Geralt. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah. Uhm. Where are the umm stairs?" Gods, he hated this.

"Out the door and to the right. I can show you if you'd like?" the secretary smiled up at him.

"I think I can manage."

"Alright. Come back here if you get lost. I'm sure I can show you the way."

Was she flirting with him? That would be a first. Hit on by the school secretary. His face settled into a scowl as he walked down the hall. This was going to be a very long year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets Jaskier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a slow burn. I need to add that tag. It goes without saying that 2020 has been a shitty year for everyone. It's been a shit year for me for sure. So this is my little self-indulgent therapeutic work. Hope you also enjoy it.

After suffering through a hideous math class, Geralt was ready for a break. His other classes weren't awful. But pre-cal was confusing as hell. It was like he'd never taken math at all. Maybe Vesemir lied about his transcript and he'd failed his previous maths. He'd left school at 17. Being out of the educational loop for nearly 3 years probably didn't help. Geralt just wanted to find a nice, quiet area to eat his lunch and regroup.

Most tables were filled with students. He even saw Lambert at a table, surrounded by what he guessed were his friends and a pretty blond girl sitting next to him. Lambert glanced at him but then quickly turned his attention to the blond avoiding any acknowledgment of Geralt's existence.

Geralt found an alcove just outside the cafeteria tucked neatly out of the way of the lines of hungry students. He sat on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and began reading some of his British lit homework. He absently munched on some doritos.

"I love how you just sit in the corner and brood."

Geralt looked up into wide blue eyes, a freckled nose and dazzling smile.

"The all black ensemble completes the mood. Not many people could carry off the dark, mysterious loner thing, but you, my friend, do it to perfection."

"I'm not your friend," Geralt growled, assessing this person who dared to interrupt his precious 20 minutes of peace.

"I guess you're right about that. I don't believe we've met. I'm Julian. Jaskier to friends." The boy extended his hand toward Geralt.

"Hmmm," Geralt responded. Julian or Jaskier is lean, but not skinny and broad in the shoulders. His chestnut hair flopped across his forehead in a perfectly styled attempt to look casual. He's dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and pink shorts.

"A man of few words, huh? That's ok. I'll talk enough for both of us. I'm assuming you're new to dear old Cintra High. I could introduce you to some people. If you'd like. Not to brag, but I know just about everyone."

Geralt raised an eyebrow to signify horse shit and also he couldn't give a fuck but his expression was rudely interrupted.

"Now, now. Don't give me that look. I assure you I do at least know of everyone here. For instance," he pointed to a table of boys," Simon and Jonathon over there are in a clandestine relationship, but don't tell anyone. They're not out. And beautiful Cynthia, ,leaning against the wall to your left is an extremely accomplished violinist. She's going to Oxenfurt next year. Oh, and there's Randy at the table by himself. He's stoned right now but is a super nice guy. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you needed it."

Geralt slowly stood to his full height. Surprisingly, Jaskier could still look him in the eye as long as the younger boy raised his chin.

"Who does your hair color? It'ssilver!"

"No one. I've always looked like this," Geralt snarled grabbing Jaskier by the wrist just as the boy reached for his hair. He waited for the noisy not-so-little punk to shiver in fear. He squeezed the fragile wrist with his strong fingers.

"Wow. Nice grip. Have you considered wrestling? I'm a wrestler. Though we'd never wrestle each other. Wrong weight class and all that," Jaskier chattered, oblivious to Geralt's anger. He reached for the older man's waist with his free hand.

"What the fuck?" Geralt released the boy when he felt slim fingers curl around his side. It burned. Or sizzled. Or something.

"Oh. If you're ticklish, wrestling is probably out. Though I could put in a good word with the coach if you'd like. But I'd need your name. Which you haven't told me. Yet." Jaskier batted his lashes, a hopeful look on his youthful face.

"Not interested. More into bare knuckle boxing," he mumbled. "And I'm Geralt," he reluctantly added.

Jaskier fucking beamed at him. It was like stars were twinkling in the boy's eyes. No one smiled at a freak like Geralt like that.

"Julian! I've been looking for you everywhere," a black-haired boy yelled.

The stars dimmed in Jaskier's eyes and his smile shrank down a notch. "Did you miss me, Valdo? It's been what, all of 10 minutes?" The words were biting, but delivered with no heat.

"We're supposed to discuss the student council elections." The boy, Valdo, blinked his beady green eyes. He was neatly dressed, his hair wasn't greasy, but Geralt sensed something distinctly slimy about the young man.

Jaskier sighed. "Right. Student council. Well, Geralt, it was a pleasure."

"Geralt?" Valdo smirked. "What kind of a name is Geralt?"

"Same kind of a name as Valdo, I'd wager," Geralt uttered in a monotone.

Jaskier cackled. "Oh I do like you, Geralt. You've got spirit. I'll see you around."

As the two younger men walked away, Geralt heard Valdo ask why Jaskier was hanging out with stray weirdos. His shoulders tensed. Which meant he'd been relaxed before. Jaskier's non-stop chatter was oddly soothing. He strained to hear the blue-eyed boy's reply.

"Geralt isn't weird. He's just new. He doesn't know anyone yet."

"And you're the fucking welcome wagon?"

"Yes, Valdo, I am." Before Valdo could speak, Jaskier turned back to Geralt and winked. Geralt felt the breath leave his body. What the fuck?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm beginning to think you're following me, you scamp." Jaskier's honeyed voice floated in the air as the blue-eyed boy slid into the empty seat at his table.
> 
> "I was here first."
> 
> "But this is my table."

Geralt sat alone at the black table furthest from the front and closest to the door. Chemistry. He hoped they studied combustibles first. Then he could seek revenge on Lambert for launching smoke bombs at him last summer.

"I'm beginning to think you're following me, you scamp." Jaskier's voice floated in the air as the blue-eyed boy slid into the empty seat at his table.

"I was here first."

"But this is my table."

"Didn't see your name on it."

"Not necessary. But this is where I always sit in science classes." Jaskier flashed a smile revealing sparkling white teeth.

"Ok. I'll move." Geralt gathered his stuff. He wasn't sure if he felt annoyed or disappointed.

"Don't be ridiculous." Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt's shoulder and attempted to push him back into his chair. "Melitele's tits, Geralt. Are you made out of granite?"

Geralt rolled his eyes but didn't attempt to dislodge Jaskier's hand.

"Ahh. Well. You know we have lab partners for this class. Might as well be the two of us together. For the lab work. Instead of someone you don't..."Jaskier's voice trailed off as the teacher entered the room.

Geralt glanced at Jaskier. He was facing forward, eyes on the front of the room. He had a very nice profile. The one cheek in his line of vision was stained pink, evidence of a blush. Maybe this kid wasn't as cocky as he seemed. Geralt took some comfort in that. For once, he didn't feel like the only vulnerable person in the room.

****

"You know anything about a guy named Jaskier?" Geralt loomed in the doorway to Lambert's bedroom.

"You know Jaskier?" Lambert looked up in surprise.

"He's my chem lab partner."

"Of fucking course. I spent all last school year trying to get someone, anyone, in that social circle to notice me and you get partnered up with the leader on your first fucking day."

"I tried to get rid of him." Geralt was truly puzzled. Jaskier was annoying. He never stopped talking. Why would Lambert desperately want to be his friend?

"You're fucking clueless, Geralt."

Geralt stared blankly at his brother.

Lambert pushed his homework aside and sat up on his bed. "Jaskier is Julian Pankratz."

"Yeah, so?"

"His family founded Pankratz Pharmaceuticals."

"So that's why he's taking chemistry?"

"For fuck's sake. Jaskier is the most popular guy at Cintra. He's rich. He's friendly. He's smart. Everyone likes him. He's connected. If you're friends with him your life in high school gets a whole lot easier. Opportunities abound, Geralt."

Fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

"You'll be able to get any girl you want. Or guy, if that's what you're into. I'm not gonna judge. Shit, you'll be invited to all the best parties." Lambert scowled.

What little color left in Geralt's pale complexion melted away like ice in hot coffee.

"It's so unfair. You," Lambert waved his hand in Geralt's face,"with your grey hair and freaky-ass eyes, you are gonna be famous. Fuck my life."

Geralt fled to his own bedroom. There had to be a way to ditch Jaskier. Maybe if he just ignored the kid, he'd get the hint. Geralt just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to be famous, whatever that meant for high school. He was not getting involved in any sort of social horse shit. Jaskier talked non-stop about absolutely nothing. How was he the leader of some stupid clique? Although he was nice to look at and his constant chatter bizarrely calmed Geralt. Damn. The guy seemed to genuinely like Geralt. But he'd been wrong before. He'd been fooled into thinking that his "friends" accepted him. But all they wanted was a thug to do their dirty work. To beat up threats and win street fights to fill their pockets with coin. People fucking sucked. Especially people with money and power. And Geralt would never be used that way again. By anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. And just to clarify, Lambert was already living with Vesemir before Geralt and Eskel's arrival. That's why he's negative toward his older "brothers".


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of backstory with Vesemir.

Vesemir's home sat on the outskirts of Cintra, a small, natural preserve in the middle of suburbia. Twenty acres of peace. Well peace from humans. The animals made a lot of noise. This was also home to Vesemir's business, Kaer Morhen Wildlife Relocation and Rescue. The old man and now Eskel (and eventually Geralt & Lambert) hunted, trapped and sometimes healed all kinds of beasties. It was dirty, thankless work, but it kept a roof over their heads and kept the city safe from apex predators and poisonous pests. And if the occasional unwanted animal found a home here as well, that was ok, too.

After his distressing conversation with Lambert, Geralt sought the company of his best friend. He walked to the barn with an apple in his pocket and let himself into the paddock.

"No, this isn't for you. Shoo." He shoved Eskel's goat, Lil' Bleater gently to get the hungry animal's nose out of his pocket. "Don't be that way. Eskel brings you plenty of treats. This is for Roach."

As if on cue, a brown mare with a white blaze on her nose huffed her way to Geralt. He looped his arm around her neck. "I need your help, Roach."

The horse looked at him sideways.

"I'll make it worth your time." He produced the apple and a pocketknife from his pocket. He quickly quartered the apple and handed a piece to Roach.

"I promised Vesemir I'd finish high school. I even promised to look after Lambert. But now there's a problem."

Roach butted her head against his chest and he scratched the place just under the forelock of her mane. It was a favorite of hers.

"Somehow this guy named Jaskier..." Roach raised her nose and wickered until she had another slice of apple between her lips. "Yeah, he has the affect on people. Anyhow, he's trying to be my friend. I don't know why. It seems he's already got a butt ton of friends. And now Lambert's jealous and I just don't understand any of it."

Geralt lead Roach from the paddock to the barn. He fastened her in the crossties and began grooming her coat. "It's not like I wanted this guy to talk to me. I was minding my own business and he appeared. Out of nowhere, Roach. And he wouldn't shut up." He leaned in close to Roach's ear. "I kind of liked it. He acted like I was just a normal school kid. It was...well it wasn't unpleasant."

He fed the rest of the apple to the mare and picked a front hoof clean of dirt. "But it's not worth it to piss off Lambert." Roach stomped her back foot. "I know, girl. Lambert's a prick, but he's still my brother. Don't tell anyone, but I kind of like having a little brother. And a big brother. Well older. I'm bigger than he is. Shit, Roach. I've got a family. Never had one before. I really don't want to fuck it up."

Geralt combed the tangles from her mane. "Why can't people leave me alone? I don't want to need anyone. Except you, of course," he added quickly since Roach tossed her head. He turned the horse back into the paddock, still at a loss for what to do.

"Can't believe that beast didn't bite your hand off," Vesemir's gravely voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know what you're talking about. She's an angel. The perfect horse."

Vesemir snorted, sounding a lot like Roach. "Only for you. Everyone else thought she'd be better off as dog food."

Geralt shook his head. "Bullshit. Everyone else wouldn't know a good horse if it kicked them in the balls." 

Roach was at the farm because of the old man. Vesemir couldn't stand to see her mistreated. So he rescued her from cruelty, untouchable as she was. Until Geralt arrived. Vesemir only smiled when the stand-offish horse nuzzled the golden-eyed delinquent. The two formed an instant bond.

"How was your last first day of school?" Vesemir asked.

"Hmmm." Geralt wasn't up for discussing it. Not with Vesemir. The old man was far too perceptive and Geralt was too confused about his feelings. He needed more time too muddle through it by himself.

"That good, huh? Don't worry. The school year will be over before you know it. Then I'll really put you to work." He patted Geralt's back softly as they walked back to the house together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. I'm working on a longer one for Chapter 5 so it might be a few days before it's ready to post. Thanks for the comments and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt overhears a conversation between Valdo and Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter felt really long to me, but reading through it, it's not that long at all. Oh well. I tried. Writing is hard!

The first half of the second day of classes went exactly as Geralt liked best; alone and not speaking to a soul. So he approached lunch in a different area of the school to avoid running into Jaskier. He settled on eating outdoors beneath a large tree on the front lawn of campus. The vice principal stationed at the exit did not share Geralt's feelings and informed him that students were not permitted to leave the building without an early dismissal slip. Fuck.

So Geralt wandered aimlessly before returning to his quiet alcove. Much to his relief, the small hallway was empty. Geralt squinted at a red brick propping open the door at the end of his hideaway. He glimpsed a large, dark curtain and a bunch of chairs strewn haphazardly about the space. Hmm. This hallway must be the back entrance to the auditorium's stage. Then he heard voices. He jumped away from the door and flattened himself against the wall.

"Julian, this is so dull. We need to make it more interesting."

Geralt perked up at the mention of the blue-eyed boy's name.

"I'm not running for president, Valdo. I have too much going on already to add that to my obligations," Jaskier's normally happy voice sounded weary.

"Well I already turned in my intent to run for treasurer. The only other people running are Foltest and Triss."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Come on, Julian. Foltest is creepy as hell and already acts like he's a king or something. And you know how I feel about Triss."

"That's your problem. I told you she'd never go out with you, but no, you wouldn't believe me. You were asking for humiliation, Valdo."

"I'm not spending my senior year on student council dealing with a bitch for president.."

"Triss is not a bitch."

"Well I have a better idea for a candidate."

"Who?"

"The new guy, Geralt."

Geralt choked on his own spit. 

"Valdo! He doesn't even know where the bathrooms are let alone the workings of student council! And he isn't the type to run for office." Jaskier quickly defended.

"So you know his type, huh Julian?" Valdo practically hissed.

Geralt knew he should leave. This was a conversation he wanted no part of. But he was also curious about Jaskier's response. 

"Yeah. He's the strong, silent type, not the class president type. So it will be between Foltest and Triss and I already know who I'm voting for!" The teasing tone was back into Jaskier's voice.

"Not if you want your guitar back."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, but I would, Julian. Or I could just hand it over to your parents along with a few other things." Valdo sounded almost gleeful.

"Valdo, please," Jaskier's voice cracked

Geralt heard enough. He scowled. He was not getting involved in any of this. Not the drama between Jaskier and Valdo, not in any fucking election. He was here for one year and one reason. He just needed to focus on his studies and Vesemir's promise of a decent future. Nothing else mattered.

****

"I missed you at lunch. Did you find a darker corner of school?" Jaskier joked when Geralt finally sat down after the second bell.

"Hmm." He did not look at Jaskier's face, studying the boy's blue jeans and Addidas.

"I need to ask you something..."

Whatever Jaskier was about to request remained a mystery because the teacher started his lecture. And once class ended, Geralt ran out the door with super-human speed.

"Geralt! Wait!" Jaskier yelled, trying to untangle his backpack from his chair.

Geralt zig zagged through the crowded hall. He needed to lose Jaskier before he reached his next class. He took the stairs two at a time and glanced behind him once he made it to his classroom. No chestnut hair. Hopefully Jaskier would take the hint. He let out a deep breath as he pulled supplies for his art class from his backpack and lined them neatly on his desk.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's familiar voice asked.

"Fuck." He startled, dropping his colored pencils.

"Sorry. I just really need to talk to you." Jaskier looked suddenly shy.

"Don't you have class?" Geralt growled, narrowing his eyes at the young man until his white eyebrows nearly hid his golden irises. 

Jaskier did not flinch. "I have plenty of plausible excuses for being late," he quietly answered.

Geralt bent over to pick up his scattered pencils. His fingers brushed Jaskier's when the boy squatted to assist him. Geralt flinched, hard.

"Go to class, Jaskier." His voice was flat, monotone, disinterested.

Geralt felt gentle fingers brush the sleeve of his black, button-down shirt. He looked up into worried blue eyes. "Did I do something to upset you?" the younger man asked. 

"I can't do this right now," Geralt said through clenched teeth. Why was he feeling as fragile as Jaskier looked?

"Ok. Well. I'll see you after class, then" Jaskier gently squeezed Geralt's bicep as he left the room. Geralt felt goosebumps shiver up the back of his neck. Fuck.

****

Geralt struggled with the shading of Roach's body. It looked wrong. Too much depth? Not enough?

"So what are you drawing, Geralt?" Jaskier said over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Geralt snapped, quickly flipping the sketchbook closed.

"Of course. A true artist doesn't share a work in progress." Jaskier hopped up and sat on the desk beside Geralt.

"Why are you here?" Annoyance replaced any other emotion he might have felt earlier.

"I can't answer that. That's a question for my parents," the younger boy quipped.

"Jaskier," Geralt growled.

"Oh, Geralt. The way you say my name. So sexy."

He felt his hand automatically form a fist. No. This kid wasn't worth the grief he'd get from the school and Vesemir if he punched the little shit in the stomach.

Jaskier studied his fingernails. A cocky facade covered his usual bright, happy expression. "I wanted to ask you something about student council..."

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"Don't have to. The answer will still be no."

Jaskier's blue eyes met Geralt's golden ones. "Please. Hear me out. Then you can yell, growl, punch me, what ever. I need your help." The cocky facade vanished.

"Fuck," Geralt said the same time his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

Message from Little Pest : Where the fuck are you? Eskel's gonna leave your ass

"I've got to go. My ride is waiting," Geralt felt like hugging Lambert for the timely, bitchy text.

"Hey. I can give you a ride home. We'll have more time to talk."

"No.." Before Geralt could even snarl, Jaskier snatched his phone, ran to the other side of the room and jumped on a table, texting the entire time.

"There. Now you have no choice! I told," Jaskier glanced at the phone, "Little Pest to leave you here with me!"

Purple filled Geralt's sight. He should knock the boy's teeth out, break his cute, little nose. His nostrils flared.

"Oooh. Scary face. I need to learn how to do that."

"What the fuck do you want, Jaskier?"

"Um, well, it's a rather twisted tale." The boy seemed to deflate before his eyes. "It all started when I was in 8th grade. I was so naive."

"Get to the fucking point!"

"Right. Yeah. Right. I fancy myself a musician, see. And I met a kindred spirit in 8th grade. We shared our hopes and dreams..."

"What's this got to do with me?" Gerlt's patience was gone. He threw his books in his back pack, prepared to march out the door and walk home.

"Wait! Where are you going? I thought I was driving you home?"

"You are," he grumbled. "We're walking to your car." Fuck walking. The little shit offered and he was accepting because it would take hours to walk to Vesemir's.

"But I haven't finished telling..."

"You can't walk and talk at the same time?"

Jaskier spluttered. "Rude! I don't know why I like you, Geralt."

"So don't like me."

"Well back to the story," Jaskier steamrolled on, ignoring Geralt's remark. "This 'friend' turned out to be a back stabbing prick. We were supposed to form a band. I'd play guitar, he'd play drums, we could both sing. We started writing songs. They were absolute shit, but it was fun. I wrote a song freshman year. I knew it was good. I showed it to him. He got really excited and we planned to do a demo recording. Next thing I know, I hear him playing and singing MY song. In front of all our friends. And a senior made a demo of HIM singing it!"

"So? Punch the prick in the face and tell your friends the truth. Doesn't seem that hard to me."

Jaskier sighed. "Oh, Geralt. If only life were that simple."

Geralt rolled his eyes as they left the building behind and walked into the sunny parking lot.

"My parents have different plans for my future. Music isn't a part of that plan. In fact, they forbade me from playing."

"Hmmm"

"I told you, it's complicated. But I didn't let them stop me."

Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in Geralt's head.

"I kept my guitar and stuff at Valdo's..."

"Valdo? The guy from lunch yesterday?" And today, but Jaskier didn't know Geralt was eavesdropping.

"Yeah."

"He's the back stabbing prick? But you act like friends?"

Jaskier stared at the ground. "Again, it's complicated. And this is where you enter the story."

"Let me guess," Geralt grimaced. "You want me to beat the shit out of Valdo."

Jaskier's head snapped up. "Oh no. Nothing like that. Valdo's family is powerful. You'd wind up in jail."

Geralt schooled is face into a mask of calm. "What do you know about jail?" 

"Nothing! And I don't want you to find out, either. The Marx's, Valdo's parents are great friends with mine. In fact, Mr. Marx is a corporate attorney for Pankratz Pharmaceuticals."

"Will you just get to point?" Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stall an oncoming headache.

"Valdo kind of threatened me."

"And?"

"He's going to tell my parents that I'm still pursuing music."

"Why don't you tell your parents. Steal his thunder?"

"Because they'll disown me, Geralt. When they forbade me from playing, they backed it up by destroying my guitar. They want me to go to business school at the University of Novigrad. I'm supposed to be the next in line to run the company. I saved up money to buy a new guitar. I let Valdo hide it for safekeeping. I know it's not the perfect plan, but I'm playing along with them, being the dutiful son so they will finance my education. I can start doing gigs in Novigrad on the side. Maybe cut a demo without Valdo involved. At least be able to support myself. Then maybe transfer to Oxenfurt and it won't matter if my parents disown me. I'll be able to take care of myself. I think I'd make a fabulous starving musician."

"So how are you going to stop Valdo?" Geralt knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Jaskier's mouth. See if he'd lie.

Jaskier looked up through his lashes, widening his puppy-dog eyes. "Valdo wants me to manage a successful student body presidential campaign for a very special candidate."

"He wants to be class president?"

Jaskier looked pained. "Not exactly. He wants someone not to be president. A lovely girl who rejected Valdo's declarations of love," he added flamboyantly.

Geralt folded his arms.

"He thinks you would make a fabulous class president and that I'm the one who can get you elected."

Geralt stood stoically on the asphalt.

"So? What do you say?" he asked with false bravado.

"Where's your car?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hmm."
> 
> "No, really, Geralt. Don't worry about it. It's not your problem."
> 
> When did Jaskier learn his hums?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Thanksgiving in America happened and I haven't had much time to write. Will try to update at least weekly.

"Nice car," Geralt commented.

"Why thank you. She is a beauty if I do say so myself. You can see I have an affinity for the color black." The younger man winked.

"Hmm," Geralt grunted, buckled his seat belt and looked out the window.

"So where is your humble abode? Maybe it's not so humble. I mean you might live in a fortress or something," Jaskier babbled.

Geralt mumbled directions and continued to stare out the window. Jaskier's cologne filled the car, a combination of cloves and some other herb or flower. Not like he was an expert on cologne. But this smelled nice. Soothing, much like the blur of the trees and traffic whizzing past was comforting.Halfway home, he realized the car was quiet. Jaskier had stopped talking. Blessed silence.

"Geralt?"

Damn. He jinxed it.

"I've been thinking."

"Hmm. Not your normal thing."

"Rude!" He smiled and turned to Geralt with a serious expression as they sat at a stop light. "This isn't how I wanted our friendship to begin."

"We're not friends."

"Yeah, well probably not now, since I've dragged you into my drama." The light turned green. The car lurched forward. "I'm sorry for that. I don't usually beg for help from people I've just met."

"Hmm." Geralt continued to watch Jaskier now that the boy's attention was back on the road.

"So I understand you don't want to run for president. It's a stupid idea. Which isn't surprising since Valdo came up with it. Triss is practically a shoo-in for president and he doesn't want to be humiliated by her at every student council meeting. But that's his problem, not mine or yours. Especially not yours. So just forget I said anything, ok?"

"What about your guitar?" 

He smiled sheepishly. "I can always borrow one from somebody. Or I can save up and buy a new one. It's not like I haven't done it before." Jaskier's long lashes fluttered. So did Geralt's heart.

"Hmm."

"No, really, Geralt. Don't worry about it. It's not your problem and it was really pathetic for me to ask."

When did Jaskier learn his hums? Lambert still threw shoes at his head to make him use actual words. He'd known Lambert for months. Jaskier knew him for all of two days. 

"You're not worried Valdo will tell your parents?"

"He doesn't have the balls. He's bluffing."

"What if he's not?"

"It's fine, Geralt. I'll handle it. Like I said, I'm really sorry I dragged you in. Wow! You live here?" Jaskier gaped as he turned onto the long, gravel driveway to Kaer Morhen Wildlife Relocation and Rescue. Large trees lined the winding path.

"For now."

"What's that mean?"

Geralt sighed. "I'm living here while I finish school."

"It's like a fairy tale. You know, like Little Red Riding Hood? I'd expect the Big Bad Wolf to be lurking out there in those woods."

"You never know. We do have a lot of wildlife."

A wistful look clouded the boy's blue eyes. "I'd love to see this in October. I bet the leaves are spectacular. You could get lost here."

"Or found," Geralt mumbled.

Gold eyes met blue and a thread of understanding connected the two. "Um, well, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Jaskier ruined the moment by babbling, his neck flaming red. "And don't worry about the election, ok?"

"Thanks for the the ride." Geralt felt like he should say something more, but Jaskier was already driving away. He watched the Mercedes' taillights disappear back into the wood. Something felt off. Or at least strange. Maybe even wrong. Why should he care about an annoying, spoiled rich kid. Except Jaskier didn't act spoiled. Cocky and obnoxious, yes. But not entitled. Hmm.

****

"Hey, Roach." Geralt patted the mare's neck. "Let's get you cleaned up before we get to work." He brushed dirt and dried mud from her coat. She looked like she'd rolled in a mud puddle. When her coat was mostly clean, he eased a snaffle bit into her mouth and led her to the practice ring. He loved working with her on the longe line. Roach wasn't ready to be ridden, but she was definitely making progress. Geralt admired the mare as she walked in circles around him. He clucked a few times to get her to trot, then urged her into a canter. She was beautiful. Her chestnut coat shined in the sun. It vaguely reminded him of Jaskier's floppy hair. Geralt felt a blush creeping across his cheeks. Fuck.

"She's looking good," Eskel called from outside the ring. Geralt flinched hard enough to pull Roach back into a trot.

"I thought you were supposed to be at work." Geralt's eyes never left the mare.

"I just finished unloading a truck full of hay. And I wanted to make sure you made it home alright," Eskel said softly.

"Hmm. Yeah. I'm fine." Geralt paused, searching for the right words to describe Jaskier to Eskel.

"What are you two fucktards up to?" Lambert yelled as he ran from the house.

"Working," Geralt and Eskel answered at the same time. So much for a private conversation with Eskel.

Lambert scoffed, "Were you working with Mr. Popularity after school? I saw you get out of his hot car."

"Hot car? Mr. Popularity?" Eskel eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his long bangs.

Geralt slowed Roach to a walk. "It's nothing."

"Right. Nothing." Lambert grinned.

"Oh. That kind of nothing. Like Keira is nothing to Lambert." Eskel teased.

"Hey!," Lambert protested. "Keira is just a friend." Then he smiled widely, "A friend who I'm going to this Friday's game with!" And he high-fived Eskel.

"Who did the asking?" Geralt could guess.

"Fuck off, Geralt. It was a mutual decision. We're going with a group." The younger boy fixed his eyes upon Geralt. "You should come, too."

"I thought you didn't want to be seen with me."

"Things change. For some reason, people seem to like you. Besides, this scary chick is also going. She looks like your type."

"My type?"

"Well your type if you're into chicks. But maybe you're interested in someone else. Someone who drives a hot, little Mercedes Benz?" Lambert wiggled his eyebrows.

Geralt lunged over the fence at Lambert, leaving Roach free in the ring. "You little shit!"

"Hey! Leave off, man. I was just kidding. Fuck, Geralt, let go of me!" Lambert struggled against Geralt's grip on his jacket.

"Geralt, what the fuck?!" Eskel jumped between the two, pushing his thumb in Geralt's neck, just under his Adam's apple. The white-haired man coughed and gagged, releasing Lambert in the process. 

Geralt looked at Eskel and then at Lambert. "Fuck. Sorry. I..I shouldn't have done that." He turned his back on his brothers and returned to Roach.

"I was only joking," Lambert told Eskel.

"Well, don't. Unless you want to get your ass kicked," Eskel warned.

The two brothers glanced at the ring then back to each other. Of the three of them, Geralt was the most stoic and unemotional. He was always in control. Until now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Geralt's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings - Mention of child abuse, threats of rape/non-con. No rape occurs. Just wanted to give fair warning that these topics appear in this chapter. I will change the tags to show this.

Geralt's mother disappeared when he was six years old. He carried few memories of her. He wished he didn't remember his father, but it's hard to forget the drunken rages and quiet loneliness.

School was a lifesaver. The few ghostly images he held of his mother centered around her waking him and bundling him off to school with a frosted cinnamon Pop Tart clutched in his hands. After she left, there were no more Pop Tarts and very few trips to school. He would wake by himself then slowly crawl to the kitchen, careful not to disturb the passed-out lump on the sofa that was his father. He always made six peanut butter sandwiches on stale or moldy bread. Four to sustain him, 2 as back up, to be stashed under his bed for emergencies. The smell of peanut butter now turns his stomach.

His mode of operation consisted of silence and invisibility. It also worked well after the school notified Social Services (for his prolonged absences) and he was placed into foster care. Geralt never stayed in one place for very long. His childhood was consumed by unremarkable people in unremarkable houses and visits to therapists where he communicated in grunts and hums. He was too difficult, too quiet, too weird.

Schoolwork came easy to Geralt. Despite his communication difficulties, he was intelligent. He could memorize facts and figures and write book reports. The bullying began in fifth grade. Geralt was a big kid with enormous hands and feet. He wore his hair to his shoulders. It was easier to hide behind. But its silver color made him a target. He blamed his father for that awful trait even though his father had been bald. All life's miseries seemed to stem from the man so why not this one?

Geralt never fought back. He would punch the brick walls of the school building, adding bloody knuckles to whatever body part was already bleeding. Of course, he was always blamed for the incidents. Far easier to blame a friendless, parentless oddball than the actual bullies. So Geralt would wait in the principals office for someone to retrieve him and doctor his bloody hands, nose, lips or blackened eye. Most times, a few days would pass and he'd be moved to another faceless home.

Eventually, he found himself in a group home for troubled boys. Silence and invisibility failed. He was lucky. He was the size of a grown man as a 15 year old kid. He could turn his strange, golden eyes on anyone and flex to send troublemakers to easier prey. One day, he was minding his own business taking out the garbage when he saw something behind the dumpsters.

"You look more like girl than a guy. So we'll just have to find out, won't we?" An older teen had cornered a pre-pubescent 13 year old with a broom. He had the smaller boy pulled against him by the waist and was trying to undo his pants.

"Stop." With that single word, Geralt stepped in. The younger boy wrenched himself free and ran.

"I guess you really want it, Big Boy. And I don't even need this," the boy, who would forever remain nameless, threw the broom to the ground. "You want the real thing." The kid started to undo his own belt.

"I wouldn't do that," Geralt's voice was low and smooth, belying the rage and hate bubbling just below his icy exterior.

"Oh, you're gonna love this. My cock up your ass and you'll be begging me for more." The boy cupped Geralt's crotch.

He can only remember blood, lots of it. Blood spreading from the back of the nameless kid's head, darkening the asphalt. He ran as fast as his legs would move. At the age of 15, Geralt escaped the foster system and was truly on his own.

He learned how to pick pockets. He became an excellent shoplifter. Silence and invisibility with a dash of speed. A year later he met another homeless boy.

"You take the dude's wallet and I'll snatch his woman's purse, yeah?"

They formed a bond after that first, successful heist. He introduced himself to Geralt as Eskel. No questions asked, no backgrounds shared. Just laughter when they weren't busy trying to survive. They worked well together for four years. Eskel had a trustworthy, almost innocent face. He talked soft and slow. People underestimated him and would make outrageous bets. So Eskel became a bookie and Geralt was the muscle. The scars he wore from his father and his silver hair made Geralt look at least 10 years older than his actual age.

It all came crashing down when Eskel arranged a fight between Geralt and some methed-out guy with a pocketful of coin. Everything went as planned until Geralt heard breaking glass followed by Eskel's screams.

Again, all Geralt remembered was blood. So much blood covering Eskel's face. He looked around the smelly alleyway and saw his opponent sitting on the ground holding his nose and moaning. Next to Eskel, another man lay unconscious, a broken bottle in one hand, bones sticking out of his arm. He ran to Eskel, ripping his shirt so he could press the scrap of fabric against his wound.

The ride in the police car was silent. He didn't even hum when one of the officers told him how lucky Eskel was. That the bottle slashed his face but missed his eye. He sat alone in a holding cell. He felt nothing. He was still numb a few days later when a guard led him to a small room, cuffing him to a chair. Two more officers entered, as well as an old man dressed in drab khakis and a brown, leather jacket. Behind the old man was Eskel.

Fuck. Eskel's face looked bad. A jagged row of stitches ran from his temple down to his mouth. His lips were pulled into a permanent, lopsided smirk. He would never be mistaken for innocent again.

The old man pushed Eskel into a chair and sat down next to him but across from Geralt. His steely eyes tracked from Eskel to Geralt. "Do you know why this world is fucked up, boys?"

Eskel mumbled, "Because people suck."

The old man patted Eskel's shoulder but his eyes remained on Geralt. "That's part of it, son."

Both he and Eskel flinched at that word.

"Main reason is people are stupid. They're so stupid, they can't see what's in front of their face. They don't value the right things."

Silence.

"You two are perfect examples."

Geralt prepared for the lecture on his stupid choices and stupid lifestyle and stupid existence.

"Idiots tossed aside two perfectly good boys, young men with the power to change this world for the better. The world is fucked because good people like you usually die in a puddle of your own blood way before your time. And the stupid fuckers live on."

Geralt looked at Eskel in disbelief.

"My name is Vesemir. And it's my job to show you your potential and make sure you fulfill it."

****

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. He entered Vesemir's life four months ago and he sure wasn't living up to his potential. Not by almost clobbering Lambert. Thank the gods Eskel intervened. Who knows what might have happened. He could have blacked out in a rage. Fuck.

"The offer still stands, fucktard."

Geralt whipped his head around to see Lambert standing in his doorway, shifting from foot to foot. "You know, if you want to go to the game..."

"Why?"

"It's a fucking right of passage. You've never been to one. I think it's a law somewhere that you have to go to at least one." And then he quietly added, "and because you're my brother."

Geralt's mouth fell open like a broken drawer.

"Don't get mushy on me! And you'll need to wear something less weird. At least no chains and shit like that. It's embarrassing when you rattle when you walk."

Geralt nodded. He could do this. For Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found more time to write so here's another chapter. Did I mention this isn't beta'd? Cuz it's not.(I'm trying to defend why this story is so choppy). Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Be gentle, please. It's been a bad year.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there is a (American) football game. Jaskier is there. So is Yennefer Vengerburg.

"Ahhh. Friday at last!" Jaskier sighed as he slid down the wall next to Geralt in their cosy alcove.

Wait. It's not their alcove. It's a hall. In the school. It is not cosy. But Jaskier radiates comfort and joy. Geralt wondered if he was losing it. 

"Now, it's time for me to introduce you to the time-honored ritual of high school football. You simply must come to the game with me. I think I'm the only one who could properly narrate all the action, on and off the field." The boy laughed and winked at Geralt. If Geralt felt on edge before, he might as well have toppled off the cliff.

"Already going," the golden-eyed man replied, staring at his own boots. He didn't want Jaskier to read the disappointment in his eyes. He promised Lambert. And it must be family first. 

"Now that is," Jaskier said, leaning even closer to Geralt, "surprising. You must elaborate. With whom are you attending? Anyone I know? What am I saying, of course I will know them. I..."

"You don't." Geralt interrupted. "Know them."

"Oh ho ho ho! Give me a name. I'll prove you wrong, my friend!"

"His name is Lambert." He finally made eye contact with the young man's luminous, blue orbs.

"Lambert, Lambert, Lambert?" Jaskier posed with a hand on his chin like the statue of The Thinker. "Shit. Doesn't ring any bells."

Then the bell rang, signifying it was time to head to chemistry. Geralt couldn't wipe the smug look off his face. "Told you so."

Jaskier pursed his lips. "By the end of the day, I will know who it is. I mean how many Lamberts can there be at this school?"

"Pray to the gods there is only one. I don't think the school could handle two," Geralt laughed. Then he realized Lambert was different at school. He wondered if any of his younger brother's friends knew how much he enjoyed concocting explosives and blowing up things. 

"Well you are still welcome to sit and chat with me at the game. I will be extremely hurt and upset if you don't." Jaskier clutched at his heart in an exaggerated swoon.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Pankratz?" The chemistry teacher did not look amused.

"My lunch didn't agree with me, sir."

The teacher pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned around. Jaskier batted his lashes at Geralt.

Fuck. Why was this guy so cute?

****

Geralt walked through the turnstile behind Lambert at the football stadium. He breathed in the crisp air trying to relax. He fucking hated crowds. He ignored the stares and whispers that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"Lambie! Over here!" The blond he'd seen his brother with before came running up to them and kissed Lambert on the cheek.

"Lambie?" Geralt asked, because no one could let that go unnoticed.

"You must be Geralt!" The blond spoke. An awkward silence descended. Lambert blushed cherry red. Tonight might be far more entertaining than he'd originally thought. "I'm Keira since Lambert apparently lost his voice," she added, giving Lambert a fond look.

"That's Triss," Lambert regained his senses, motioning to an attractive red headed girl. "Aiden and Yennefer," he finished, pointing to each person. Aiden was tall and lean, with black hair and copper skin. Yennefer could only be described as sultry. She wore a low cut gold blouse, short black skirt, fish net stockings and knee-high boots. Her lips were ruby red with lipstick and blue eyeshadow accented her violet colored eyes.

She smiled and stood up from the aluminum bleachers. She openly appraised Geralt from head to toe. Evidently, she liked what she saw. "I assume that you were also dragged here against your will.

"More or less."

Lambert rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Keira.

"How did I miss you for the last three years?" Yennefer said, hands on her hips.

"I only come out at night."

"So cheesy. Although you are pale enough. And your eyes," she purred.

"I'm not the only one here with strange colored eyes." Was he flirting with this chick?

"I prefer "unique" to "strange". Yennefer was definitely flirting. "Do you have any other unique features?"

"Hmmm," he answered. This girl was a trap. Everyone mentioned his hair, his size, just his general existence as odd. He took her as an adventure seeker, wanting to bang the latest freak. He sat next to Lambert. Yennefer sat next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch. Fuck.

A low rumble traveled through the stands. People shouted, whooped and stomped. Jaskier made his way through the crowded bleachers like royalty. He wore a grin and a pair of ridiculous joggers, skin tight on his calves but flopping at the hips. He topped off the trousers with a brightly striped pullover. He looked like a fucking piece of candy. 

"Do you think he'll come over here?" Lambert whispered to Geralt.

"Geralt! And Triss! Hello!" Jaskier ignored everyone else. 

Lambert rammed his elbow into Geralt's ribs. He elbowed Lambert back twice as hard and then introduced him to Jaskier.

"Any friend of Geralt's is a friend of mine."

Lambert snorted. "He's not my friend. He's my brother."

"Oh. Wow. Geralt, it's an honor to meet your brother. Sorry, Lambert, I should have seen the uh, family resemblance." Jaskier tripped over his words. "So, Triss, how's the presidential campaign going?"

Ah. Triss Merigold. The person Valdo Marx hated.

"Pretty good. With only Foltest running, it's not much of a race. The guy is creepy as fuck."

"I thought about running." It was out of Geralt's mouth before he could even process it.

"What?" The entire group gasped.

Fuck. 

"I thought you decided against it. Right, Geralt?" Jaskier was at Geralt's side, looking at him in earnest. 

"It's certainly news to me. I didn't think you had it in you, Geralt. Where is the 'I want nothing' brother that broods and sulks?" Lambert said.

"I can't picture it. But I think it would be fucking awesome for a guy like you to be senior class president," Yennefer added, draping herself over Geralt's shoulder.

"Thanks for the love! I thought you were helping me!" Triss gave Yen an incredulous look.

"Yennefer, didn't see you there." Jaskier managed to peel his eyes from Geralt.

"Hello, Jaskier. It's rather hard to miss you. Your clothes are so bright and cheery," she said loftily.

"Why, thank you, Yen. It's nice to be recognized for something other than my chest."

"You little..." Yennefer threatened Jaskier with a deadly look from her violet eyes. The boy just puffed and preened more, moving closer to Geralt.

"Hey, stop it, you two. Now back to Geralt's news. Are you really going to run?" Triss interrupted.

"Thought about it," he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"You need to enter the race by next Wednesday. I always enjoy some friendly competition. As long as my so-called friend here doesn't desert my campaign." Triss stared pointedly at Yennefer.

"Oh I won't ditch you, Triss. But I think it would be fucking hilarious to have Geralt win."

Jaskier bristled. "Geralt is not a joke! I think he'd make a fantastic president. If that's what he wants. Because I certainly wouldn't want him to do something he might not want to do. Or regret. Or..."

"Jaskier," Geralt growled to stop the blathering.

The young man looked at Geralt through his lashes. "Are you sure?" 

No. Geralt was definitely not sure. But he nodded in the affirmative.

"Ok, then! I'll be your campaign manager. I have a lot of ideas. And we'll get to spend so much time together! You won't regret this, Geralt!" Jaskier bounced happily.

"Good luck," Yennefer laughed and disappeared with Triss.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote this chapter three times. I have lost control of the story! Geralt did something so out of his norm. 
> 
> Also, Yennefer is a complicated character. I like her but do not like the toxicity of her and Geralt's relationship in the Netflix show. My poor Geralt has had enough of those kinds of relationships.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt realizes he's made a giant mistake. Jaskier sets out to prove him wrong.

Geralt's phone was blowing up with messages from Jaskier.

OMG I can't believe you are doing this!!!

Unless you were joking

Were you joking?? Cuz ha ha funny you had me going

Geralt? is this really your number?

Pls don't be mad.I said you didn't have to run

This was your idea

Im calling Triss and telling her you're not running

"For fucks sake," Geralt groaned, dashing off a text to shut Jaskier up. The fucker was annoying even through texts.

"What the hell is going on? Lambert looks smug and your phone is vibrating like a lonely widow's sex toy," Eskel said as he drove the two home from the game.

"Our brother is running for senior class president."

Eskel veered off the side of the road. The old truck squealed and rattled in the dirt. He corrected quickly but not til after scaring the shit out of Geralt and Lambert.

" Fucking hell, Eskel! I mean I know it's weird, our brother getting involved, but you don't need to kill us." Lambert scooted back to the middle of the bench seat after being thrown practically into Geralt's lap. "It happened like this. I introduced Pretty Boy here to my friends. Surprisingly, they all seemed to like him. In fact, one girl REALLY liked him. But then Jaskier showed up and all of the sudden Geralt forgets he has some chick hanging all over him and claims he's running for president."

"I'm so confused." Eskel sighed.

"Me too," Geralt added. He didn't know what came over him. His clothes still smelled like lilac and gooseberries from Yennefer's perfume. She'd wrapped herself round him like a shawl. But he'd lost all interest when Jaskier arrived. The guy looked so happy. His blue eyes sparkled in the stadium lights and for a brief second, Geralt could picture him up on a stage playing his guitar and singing his heart out. Fuck, Geralt really wanted to see him perform, wanted his happiness. He knew then he would do everything in his power to reunite Jaskier and his guitar.

****

"So Lambert tells me you've stepped out of your comfort zone," Vesemir said as the two were mucking out stalls early Saturday morning.

"I'm trying to help a friend," Geralt stabbed extra hard at the straw with his pitchfork.

Vesemir leaned against his own shovel and paused to look at Geralt. "Help a friend or impress a girl?"

Geralt hummed. "I'm trying, Vesemir. I'm finishing school. I'm .... meeting people." 

"That's great. I'm proud of you." Vesemir hesitated. He walked behind Geralt and clasped his shoulder. "Just..."

"Just what?" Geralt felt a lump form in his throat. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Shit. He wasn't good enough to be president. And Vesemir knew that, too. 

"Relax, boy," the old man soothed. "There is nothing wrong with you." His steely grey eyes seemed to see into Geralt's mind. "Do not become someone you are not because you think it's what they want. Hell, don't do that if you think it's what I want. I don't. You have nothing to prove to me. You were dealt a lousy hand at the start of your life. I'm trying to give you some new cards. You're a good man, Geralt. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Geralt turned away. He pursed his lips. "My...friend. He's being taken advantage of. I don't want that to happen."

"I see," Vesemir said, stretching the vowels out, low and rumbly. "Be careful, Geralt. You've had enough hurt in your 20 years to last a lifetime. Don't add to it." 

****

He met Jaskier for lunch at some posh tea room. What the fuck are finger sandwiches? Sounds like something Lambert would make, using real fingers, of course.

"You look like the menu could kill you, Geralt."

"Hmm. I just want a fucking ham sandwich. What lunch place doesn't have that?" 

"Don't worry. I've got this." Jaskier gently patted Geralt's hand.

"Hmm."

When the server brought the food, he set down a plate containing four of the tiniest sandwiches Geralt had ever seen. Each one was made of a different bread and some sort of weird spread. They were surprisingly delicious.

"Did I do alright?" Jaskier asked, blinking through his eyelashes and nibbling on some avocado toast.

Geralt hummed with satisfaction.

"Now we're going to work on your people skills and maybe your wardrobe."

Geralt's shoulders slumped.

"I might think you're marvelous as is, but the greater Cintra High population probably won't get past your terrifying appearance."

"Who the fuck cares? I run. I lose. You get your guitar back."

"Valdo may look like an idiot, but alas, he is not. There is no way he'll keep up his end of the deal if we don't at least attempt a real campaign. He's bribing me to avoid dealing with Triss. If we just slap up a few posters with your scowling mug on it, he'll know this is a farce and he'll renege."

"Fuck. Dealing with me is gonna be just as bad as dealing with Triss."

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "He doesn't pine for you, Geralt. He won't feel the sting of rejection every time he talks to you at a student council meeting."

"He might feel the sting of my fist if he acts like a prick."

"Now, now. As much as I would love to watch you pummel his face, it's not a great way to handle people you don't like. We don't want to get you expelled. You need to paste a smile on your gorgeous face, nod and act gracious. Act like you genuinely care about people."

"Fuck. Why aren't you running? Everybody loves you."

A blush spread across Jaskier's face and traveled down his neck under the collar of his shirt. "Well. Haha. As much as I wish that were true, it's not." Jaskier studied his fingers and took a large gulp of his iced coffee. "Besides, my goal is to put more distance between myself and Valdo. Believe me, he's way too involved in my life. Ok. I'm gonna pretend to be an average student and you are going to try to convince me to vote for you."

Geralt scowled even deeper.Then he curled his lips into a wide, leering grin showing all his teeth.

"Meletele's tits, Geralt. You look like you're about to hatch an evil plot to take over the world."

"I don't smile, Jaskier. It's unnatural." Geralt ran his fingers through his hair. This was a fucking bad idea. Nobody was ever going to vote for him.

"That does it. You're coming over to my house. Now. We must get you in front of a mirror. You need to see your expressions and use your muscle memory to get it right."

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year. Hope you all made it safely through the holidays. Hopefully I will find more time to write to update more regularly.


End file.
